


drip

by aegious



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Imprinting, M/M, Sakuma Ritsu/Isara Mao (one-sided), Sena Izumi/Yuuki Makoto (one-sided), Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegious/pseuds/aegious
Summary: “Oh, Ritsu, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Rei calls after him, his sweet voice grating against Ritsu’s ears. “It’s just biology. You’ve matured, and he’s a close friend. In fact, I see this as reason to celebrate.”Ritsu flies up off the floor, the evening giving him enough energy to properly throttle that stupid creature. “It isnota reason to celebrate! This is horrible! The worst! Absolutely terrible!”“Hello?” Izumi yells, his irritation so strong that Ritsu can feel it in his stomach, rolling around with his own emotions. “Is someone going to explain what the hell you’re talking about?”Ritsu makes a mistake and Izumi is just going to have to live with it.
Relationships: Sakuma Ritsu/Sena Izumi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 81





	1. first beat

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe im finally posting this lol
> 
> welcome to my self-indulgent vampire au ahaha, there's 4 parts to this so i hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> thank you to my beta readers [milo](https://twitter.com/mitsumomos) and [alle,](https://twitter.com/eienseiriron) they helped me out a tonnnnnnn and put up with all my crap throughout this ridiculous process. i appreciate you both ;w;

Mao is reading manga on the couch next to him when it hits.

At first it’s small and fleeting, just a tiny little bubble in Ritsu’s chest. And then it explodes, a burning heat tearing through him with a strength that forces a whine out of his throat.

He leans on Mao for comfort. “Make it go away, Maa-kun,” he whimpers, and Mao jumps, the book falling to the floor.

“Ritsu?” he yelps, fighting against the way Ritsu clings to him. “What’s going on? Let go of me.”

“Don’t wanna…” Not as long as the heat is clawing at his chest, his heart pounding fast and furious. “Maa-kun, stop it…”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Mao says, but he stops fighting and lets Ritsu collapse into his lap. An arm drapes over him, and it would be soothing if he weren’t so uncomfortable.

“It hurts, like it’s—” He stops to think, but it’s hard with all the emotions jumbling together in his brain, with the sensations just under his skin. It’s something familiar, like when that thing abandoned him last year, or like when the kids in Mao’s unit get a little too touchy-feely with _his_ Maa-kun. He whines again, this time at the unpleasant memories.

“If you just pout, I’m not gonna know what’s going on, Ritchan.” Mao’s thumb presses circles into his arm, and Ritsu wants to melt into it, bask in the attention Mao is giving him, but this foreign, ghostly hand clenching his heart is too pervasive, too demanding.

There’s a sense of urgency—a quickening in his breath, a lurch in his gut, a tenseness in his limbs. He briefly wonders if that creature pretending to be his brother has returned for the night, and that’s why he’s feeling all of these unpleasant things, but the house doesn’t creak with life, and he can’t find that rotten scent anywhere.

Maybe he’s hungry. Maybe his snack earlier wasn’t enough, and he needs more.

He turns his head, breathing in deeply and letting all of Mao encompass him. His wrist is hanging limply above him, mere centimeters away from Ritsu’s face. If he just angles his chin up a little more—

“R–Ritsu?!” Mao yells, shoving Ritsu off of him as soon as he breaks skin. Ritsu should have expected this kind of reaction, and he can’t help but find Mao’s flustered face cute, but there’s still a small sense of guilt lingering in him, which is quickly quashed by the waves of _feeling_ inside him.

Blood drips in tiny, barely-there droplets onto the carpet, the same blood that’s smeared across Ritsu’s lip.

“What the hell, Ritsu?” Mao says, running his unbloodied hand through his hair. Ritsu can see the slight tremble in his fingers.

“I’m hungry.” He frowns. “You should be okay with it, Maa-kun, since you love me, right?”

“No?!” Mao throws a pillow at him, which Ritsu easily catches. “That’s definitely not how this works!”

Ritsu grumbles and licks what little blood he got off his lip—and his face instantly contorts in disgust.

“Maa-kun!” he accuses, throwing the pillow back at him. “What did you do?!”

Mao doesn’t catch it, and it hits him square in the face. “Huh? What do you mean? Wait, no, I’m the one who’s mad at you right now, not the other way around!”

Ritsu shakes his head, his hair flying everywhere. “No, Maa-kun can’t stay mad at me anyway.”

“Again, that’s not how this works.”

“What did you do?” he asks again, ignoring Mao in favor of the much more important issues at hand. “Your blood is all gross. Are you cheating on me?!”

“When were we even dating?!” Mao clutches his head in his hands. “Wait—that’s wrong. To begin with, you shouldn’t even be attacking me like that?”

Ritsu runs his tongue over his lip, expression locked in a grimace as he tastes the sour blood. “It’s disgusting! Did you let anija taste you?!”

“Are you even listening to me?” Mao sighs, giving up. “No, Sakuma-senpai hasn’t touched me. I haven’t even seen him around school lately.”

“Then who?” Ritsu says, pushing himself forward until their noses are almost touching. From here, Mao’s sweet, coppery scent envelops him like a hug, and he has to remind himself what’s at stake before he forgets all reason. He sniffs once, twice, and furrows his brow when he can’t smell anyone else on him.

“No one! That kinda thing is creepy, anyway!” Mao pulls back, holding his hands up between them like a barrier.

“But if it’s not you, then—”

The _feeling_ rushes forward anew, and Ritsu finds himself falling back into Mao’s arms, and he digs his fingers into Mao’s thigh as it turns to frenzied avarice.

It’s like his favorite toy has been snatched away—the raw, gripping sensation of having what’s _his_ in someone else’s hands. He has to go, has to take back what belongs to him, and the longer he fights it, the stronger the urge gets. It’s almost unbearable, the imperious _need_ to rescue his toy from danger, and then he remembers.

“Oh,” he mumbles into Mao’s shirt. “Oh, no.”

And an hour later Mao is sandwiched between Ritsu and Izumi in the living room, Mao’s manga forgotten on the floor.

“I still don’t understand why I’m here,” Izumi grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Although you did get me away from Ou-sama, so I can’t say this is all bad. He won’t leave me alone lately.”

“I can’t say I get it, either,” Mao admits, turning to face Ritsu as if to ask for answers. “Ritsu just started demanding that I make you come over even if I had to drag you by the collar.”

Izumi makes a face at that. “And get my clothes all wrinkled? No thanks. I can walk.”

Mao shrugs. “But seriously, what’s this about, Ritsu? You didn’t bother explaining anything, and now you’ll barely even look at us.”

But how can he, when he’s going through the worst crisis of his life? He bites at his nail, knees drawn up to his chest as he avoids their gazes. Now that Izumi’s here, he’s lost all nerve to say anything, especially since his arrival only confirmed his worst fear.

“Quit biting your nails, Kuma-kun. That’s disgusting.” He reaches over to swat the hand from Ritsu’s mouth, but his arm freezes in midair when Ritsu flinches back. “…You okay?”

He’s so close now, and Ritsu can’t avoid it anymore. The heady aroma drifting off of him is stronger now than it was yesterday; Mao’s scent disappears altogether beneath Izumi’s lilac shampoo and tangy blood.

He wonders how Izumi hasn’t noticed yet, how he can possibly be this stupid. But ah, right, humans don’t have the same kind of abilities he does. Izumi wouldn’t be able to tell just at a glance.

Not for the first time, Ritsu wishes he could be counted among the living.

“Secchan…” Ritsu mumbles, his shoulders drooping low. “I fucked up.”

Izumi draws back to a safer distance behind Mao. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ritsu gestures vaguely, hoping that by some miracle he won’t have to explain something so embarrassing.

That miracle comes in the form of that creature coming home, a disembodied tenor lilting through the halls before any of them can even see him.

“Ritsu!” Rei calls. “I’m home! I’ve brought you something delicious—”

He stops in the archway when he finds the three of them sitting on the same couch.

“Hey, Sakuma-senpai,” Mao greets with a little wave. “How have you been? Ritsu’s having a breakdown.”

Rei’s posture stiffens as he takes in the sight, and the arm that had been waving around a bag with some confectioner’s logo on it falls to his side. “I can see that. Care to elaborate?”

Mao scrunches up his face. “I’d love to, but I can’t. Ritsu won’t tell us anything.”

Ritsu tugs at a clump of hair and groans. “I don’t wanna.”

“Now, now, Ritsu,” Rei chastises, and Ritsu wrinkles up his nose. “If you want people to understand you, you have to use your words.”

“I don’t _want_ them to understand,” Ritsu says. “I want it to go away.”

Rei tilts his head. “It?”

Ritsu groans again and buries his face in his knees. _“It,_ anija. _It.”_

“It…?” Realization must have hit, because he makes a small noise of understanding and the paper bag falls onto the couch with a dull thud. “Ritsu… with Isara-kun?”

Ritsu shakes his head and looks up, begging for that thing to understand.

“With…” Rei’s eyes flicker to Izumi. “With Sena-kun?”

Ritsu groans miserably.

“Can you explain what’s going on, Sakuma?” Izumi says, frustration bubbling over into his words. “Kuma-kun moaning and groaning doesn’t exactly help me understand why I’m here.”

The brother lookalike makes eye contact with Ritsu before forging on ahead. “It’s quite simple, Sena-kun. It seems you two have accidentally imprinted.”

The room falls quiet, then bursts into life all at once.

“You _what?!”_

“We did _what?!”_

Ritsu rolls off the couch and onto the floor. Maybe he’ll sink into the boards and be swallowed up by the flames of hell.

Unfortunately, the floor remains solid beneath him.

“Oh, Ritsu, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Rei calls after him, his sweet voice grating against Ritsu’s ears. “It’s just biology.”

Ritsu grits his teeth and wills himself to disappear. “I _know_ that, stupid anija.”

“Hello?” Izumi yells, his irritation so strong that Ritsu can feel it in his stomach, rolling around with his own emotions. “Is someone going to explain what the hell you’re talking about?”

Rei ignores him because he’s a bastard. “Why are you reacting like this, then? You’ve matured, and he’s a close friend. In fact, I see this as reason to celebrate.”

Ritsu flies up off the floor, the evening giving him enough energy to properly throttle that stupid creature. “It is _not_ a reason to celebrate! This is horrible! The worst! Absolutely terrible!”

Rei takes a moment to recover, his head bobbling a bit even after Ritsu releases him. He clears his throat and frowns. “I don’t see why. I always anticipated this would happen between either your precious unitmates or your beloved childhood friend. It was just a matter of when.”

“That’s just it!” Ritsu shouts, shoving a finger back in Izumi’s direction. “It wasn’t supposed to be Secchan! It was supposed to be Maa-kun!”

“What about me?” Mao shifts in his seat, putting just a little more distance between them.

“I see.” Rei hums, looking between them. “That would complicate things, then.”

Izumi waves his hand in front of him, drawing their attention. “Complicate _what?”_ When no one bothers to reply yet again, he stands up. “Fine, if everyone here is just gonna be so damn cryptic, then I’m going home.”

He marches across the room, his scent fading blissfully away with the distance. But it’s still present, still filling the room and every part of Ritsu’s consciousness with his potent aroma.

“Wait, Secchan,” Ritsu tries, swallowing back his desire to focus on the _actual_ problem. He can’t just let him leave, not when he doesn’t understand anything at all. So he’s gotta—

Izumi stops dead in his tracks in the archway and stands there for what feels like an eternity. He grips at his arm, nails digging into his shirt, and lifts a leg as if to start out again before putting it back down.

“Sena-senpai?” Mao asks, stiffening as if to stand. “What’s wrong?”

“Ritsu doesn’t want him to leave,” Rei says. “So he won’t.”

“What are you going on about?” Izumi says, shooting a sour look over his shoulder. “Of course I am. This is _so_ annoying. I don’t wanna deal with you freaks anymore.”

Despite his words, he still doesn’t move, though he does lift his leg again as if he were going to.

Ritsu scrunches up his face. This is the worst. The absolute worst.

“It’s best not to fight it, Sena-kun,” Rei says, reassuring and confident—as if he were speaking from experience. Ritsu immediately discards that thought because he does _not_ want to imagine that thing imprinting with _anyone._ Ugh, gross.

“Secchan, come sit back down,” he says instead of thinking about awful terrible things. “You can’t leave yet anyway. It’s dangerous. Probably.”

Izumi is quiet for a moment, fist pulling at his shirt, and Ritsu can _feel_ his frustration. But it doesn’t change anything. They’re not done here—he needs Izumi to stay.

And sure enough, Izumi turns around and returns to the couch, sitting on the opposite side of Ritsu so that Ritsu is in the middle this time. His cheeks are just a little pink—from exertion, or embarrassment, or maybe both.

Izumi’s scent is intoxicating, and Ritsu has to struggle to keep himself together. Because it’s _Izumi,_ and he doesn’t wanna make things weird. They’re already weird enough.

This is the _worst._

“Good boy,” Rei praises with an airy, knowing smile. Izumi returns that with a snarl. “Now Ritsu, how did this happen?”

Ritsu groans and falls onto the nearest shoulder for comfort, but horror sinks deep into his bones when he realizes that shoulder belongs to Izumi and not his Mao.

_This is the worst this is the worst this is the worst this is the worst._

He pushes himself away from Izumi, ignoring his indignant cry, and seeks out Mao, clinging to him as if that will change anything.

“Hey, Ritsu, that’s rude,” Mao scolds, and Ritsu revels in his attention, tries to use it to block out the overwhelming presence of Izumi next to him.

“It was at practice today,” he says, muffled by Mao’s shirt. “I was hungry, so I asked Secchan, and…”

Izumi huffs. “Kuma-kun attacked me.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Secchan,” Ritsu mumbles, too miserable to even try lifting his head.

“Uh, no, you didn’t tell me about any of your weird vampire crap until it was way too late to remove you from Knights.”

Rei ignores them. “It’s dangerous to take that much, Ritsu.”

_“Obviously,”_ he shoots back, gesturing at Izumi next to him. “But I’ve barely eaten all week. I was _so_ hungry, so Secchan let me… and then I… And I didn’t even notice until… ugh, I messed up.”

“Hold on,” Izumi says, confusion dripping off every word. “I still have no idea what’s going on. What’s this whole _imprinting_ thing? Is it some freaky vampire shit?”

Ritsu nods into Mao’s shoulder. Mao reaches up and pats him on the back.

“Sakuma-senpai, can you explain at all?” Mao asks, and Ritsu wraps his arms around him because _of course_ his Mao would know that Ritsu can’t possibly explain something so awful right now, not when he’s in mourning. They’re still connected, he tells himself over and over.

“Of course.” Rei clears his throat. “When a vampire takes in too much blood from a human, we run the risk of imprinting on them. As you might guess, that would be the case in this situation, as well.”

“Okay…” Izumi says, long and slow and punctuated with a huff. “So what does it mean? It sounds like that duck thing, or whatever.”

“It means that you’ve forged a very special bond with my little brother, Sena-kun. Congratulations!” Rei explains, his smile so bright it burns Ritsu’s skin. “There really are few downsides to this. Imprinting makes our human’s blood much sweeter to the taste and more nutritious, so we can sustain ourselves for longer, all while feeding less often. And in turn, your blood becomes sour and inedible to anyone else, which protects you, as well.”

“Shut up, anija,” Ritsu groans. “I don’t wanna drink from Secchan. I want Maa-kun’s blood.”

Izumi scoffs. “Should I even be offended by that? I feel like I shouldn’t be offended by that.”

“It’s okay, Sena-senpai,” Mao says. “Ritsu is just like that. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yes I do!” Ritsu beats a half-hearted fist into Mao’s chest. “Stop ignoring my feelings, Maa-kun. This is the worst possible thing I’ve ever experienced ever in my entire life ever!”

“Okay, I’m definitely offended now.”

“You will also experience some other side effects,” Rei continues, “which I’m sure you’re already getting acquainted with.”

Izumi’s voice is strained when he speaks. “Like…?”

“Feeling each other’s emotions and desires, or in some advanced cases, hearing thoughts.”

Ritsu groans, burying his face into Mao again.

“Or feeling compelled to listen to your mate’s will,” Rei finishes. “Which you seem to have firsthand experience with now, Sena-kun.”

“Don’t call Secchan that!” Ritsu whines. “Don’t say that word unless you’re talking about Maa-kun!”

Mao jumps a little. “Huh? No, don’t say that word even if you _are_ talking about me, please.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Izumi mutters.

Rei hums. “The bathroom is down the hall. Shall I escort you?”

“Fuck off.”

Rei’s chuckle is light and dismissive. “Well anyhow, that is the gist of it. Of course, there are more biologically comprehensive explanations, but I am no scientist. Contrary to popular belief, I am just a teenaged boy.”

Ritsu and Izumi groan in near-perfect harmony, and Ritsu almost throws up in his mouth.

“Maa-kun, let me drink your blood,” he begs, already moving his fingers across Mao’s skin, feeling for a pulse. “I’ll overwrite the imprint with Secchan and then we can live happily ever after just like in your dreams.”

“Hey?!” Mao pushes Ritsu off of him, and much to Ritsu’s dismay, he lands in Izumi’s lap. For some reason, Izumi doesn’t even attempt to push him off. “When have I ever dreamed about something like that, anyway?”

Izumi stares down at Ritsu, eyes wide and—fearful. And Ritsu can tell for certain, now, because there’s ice growing in his stomach and it’s hard to breathe and it’s all Izumi’s fault he’s feeling these awful things.

“How do we break it?” Izumi asks, quieter than he has been all night. “Can it really be overwritten?”

“No,” Rei states, condemning them mercilessly. “I have heard there are ways to break an imprint, but I’m not so well-versed in that science. It’s supposedly very difficult and even more painful, and as I don’t like very difficult or very painful things, I stopped my research on the topic long ago. I don’t much care for reading, anyway.”

Ritsu fumbles for a pillow and chucks it at that useless thing inhabiting his brother’s body. “You’re the worst. You’re even more the worst than this whole thing is the worst.”

“So we’re stuck like this?” Izumi’s voice is small and vulnerable. It’s jarring, and Ritsu finds himself looking up at him, reaching out for him, before he remembers that everything he’s doing right now, everything he’s feeling right now, is because of the imprint and he snatches his hand back close to his chest.

“It’s a mutually beneficial relationship, Sena-kun,” Rei says, as if he were teaching music theory to a child, slow and calm to hide the irritation underneath. “But if it’s any consolation for the confusion and turmoil you must be experiencing right now, then I will apologize on Ritsu’s behalf for his carelessness. An imprint is not something to be taken lightly. After all, it binds a human and vampire together for life.”

“For life…” Izumi repeats, as if in a trance. His eyes are glossy and unseeing, and Ritsu can’t help the heat creeping up his face as reality truly sinks in.

He’s really, _really_ messed up this time.


	2. second beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sena-senpai?” Tsukasa says, arms falling to his side. “Are you all right?”
> 
> “No,” he manages, “I’m…”
> 
> He’s what?
> 
> “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

Izumi’s head drops out of his hand when a nail taps on his desk, startling him awake.

“Uh, yo, Sena-kun,” Kaoru says from the seat next to him—huh, when did he even come to class? “Wakey wakey.”

Izumi taps on his phone, lighting up the screen, and realizes it’s already past three o’clock. “God dammit.”

“You okay?” Kaoru asks as he flinches away, as if he’s a bomb about to explode. “Normally I wouldn’t worry about another guy, but you never sleep in class.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Exhaustion pulls at his lids even now, but he shakes his head, slapping his face a few times to force himself awake. He tries to count the minutes, thinking back to the last time he checked the time, but he cuts off that train of thought as he gets ever closer to the hour mark.

Whatever. He’ll just get the notes from Tenshouin or some other honor student and it’ll be fine. It’s just one class.

He refuses to entertain any explanation as to _why_ he might be so tired. He’s not thinking about it. Nope, not today, not ever. As far as he’s concerned, nothing at all happened yesterday, and everything is normal and nothing has changed and it’s _fine._

He doodles a little love umbrella on the blank page of his notebook, scribbling down his own name on one side and Yuu-kun’s on the other. It’s a good way to fill the empty space, much better than anything the teacher might have to say in the last ten minutes of class. And it’s a good distraction, something solid and definite and real that he can cling onto while he’s fervently ignoring everything else.

Then the bell rings and he remembers that Knights has practice today, and Izumi wishes he were dead.

Maybe he’ll skip today. It’s not like the other lazy shits in this unit have never skipped before. Just look at Leo! Yeah, yeah, after Leo’s disappearance, there’s no _way_ anyone can scold him for skipping out.

“Sena!”

Fuck his rotten luck.

Leo jumps onto Izumi’s back as soon as he exits the classroom, swinging himself around wildly and with way, way, way too much energy. Still, Izumi only finds the motivation to throw him off when Leo’s grip around his neck becomes a chokehold.

“Get off of me!” He wrestles with Leo for just a moment; it’s almost surprising how easily he gives in. Maybe he’s finally decided to stop being a fucking two-year-old.

Leo grins up at him, waving a stack of papers so close to his face that it hits against his nose. “Sena, let’s go to practice together! I wrote a new song just for you!”

Great. “I’m not going to practice.”

Leo’s face wrinkles up as if Izumi’s just shoved month-old milk in his face. “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you’re going. You always go to practice! Ah, wait—!”

This oughta be good.

“I know!” Leo exclaims, throwing his arms out. He must have forgotten he was holding that new song, because suddenly paper is flying everywhere, and Izumi already knows he’s the one who’ll have to clean that up. “You’re possessed! The _real_ Sena was abducted and now you’re a clone! Invasion of the body snatchers! Wahahaha!”

If Izumi hadn’t been there to catch him, Leo would have fallen to the floor, howling with laughter at his own stupid joke. And really, he should just let him, but Izumi’s instincts kick in and his arm wraps around Leo’s to keep him at least somewhat upright.

“Shut up, you’re _so_ annoying!” Izumi complains, dragging Leo around the hall as if that’s going to do anything. “Fine, fine, I’ll go to practice! Just seriously shut up!”

Leo does not, in fact, shut up, but he does compose himself long enough to reverse their position so that he’s the one pulling Izumi along. “Perfect! The live is getting closer, so you guys gotta work hard so you don’t drag me down on stage!”

“Who’s dragging who down…” he grumbles, then a spot of white catches in his peripherals and he tugs against Leo’s grip. “Wait, what about your song?”

Leo throws back his head and cackles. “Forget it! I’m coming up with a brand new one right now!”

It doesn’t change the fact that they’re _littering,_ but since Leo has a vise-like grip on his arm Izumi really doesn’t have a choice. So he follows Leo down the hall, and it’s only after they’ve changed into sweats and entered the studio that he remembers why he was avoiding practice to begin with.

Because Ritsu is _right there._

He’s already fast asleep under the kotatsu, and if Izumi weren’t vehemently avoiding the word, he might consider his relaxed, peaceful face _cute_.

But nope! He’s not going there. Because nothing happened last night, and everything is normal and _fine_ and nothing is wrong and Ritsu is the same as he was two days ago and Izumi is the same as he was two days ago and that’s that.

Ritsu stirs, nose wrinkling and eyes blinking as he fumbles around. “I sense Maa-kun… Maa-kun, come sleep with m—”

They make eye contact.

There’s a wash of icy waves over Izumi, and that fabricated ignorance unravels at its sloppy seams.

Ritsu whines pitifully and curls back under the kotatsu. “Never mind.”

“Ritsu-chan, we’re all here today, so we might as well practice,” Arashi scolds lightly, tugging on Ritsu’s arm. “Oh, you’re really fighting it today. Help me out, Tsukasa-chan.”

“Me?” Tsukasa asks, pointing at himself. “Understood. Please come out, Ritsu-senpai, or we won’t be able to practice.”

The two of them are able to drag Ritsu out from under the kotatsu, leaving both him and Izumi with no place to hide from each other.

“I changed my mind,” Izumi says flatly, spinning on his heel. “I’m not going to practice after all.”

There’s a chorus of protests that might be flattering if Izumi weren’t so completely adamant to get the hell out of here, but Ritsu alone cuts through the others, so clear he sounds like he’s whispering in Izumi’s ear. “Ugh, hold on, Secchan—”

And there it is again. That weird, stiff feeling that starts in his fingers and spreads throughout his body, the words replaying over and over like one of Leo’s songs he can’t get out of his head. That sinking in his stomach, that urgency that claws up his throat and tells him he _has to—_

Has to what? Izumi grits his teeth and tries to leave again, more and more memories unearthed the longer his foot hovers in midair, unmoving, unable to go forward.

The most frustrating thing is that he _wants_ to listen to it. More than anything, he wants to turn back around and stick as close to Ritsu as he can possibly get, to stay by him and never leave again.

_So_ annoying.

Sakuma’s warning is the only other clear thought in his head. But if he doesn’t keep fighting it, then what’s left of him?

He’s back in the room before he can even process that he’s moved.

“Oops,” Ritsu says through a yawn, entirely uncaring. “Sorry. I just meant I could go instead. You’ll get more out of practice than me.”

Tsukasa looks between them, fidgeting in a way unbecoming of a young heir. “Um, did something happen between Sena-senpai and Ritsu-senpai?”

“This would be the first I’ve heard of it,” Arashi says, narrowing her eyes. “What’s this, are my cute Izumi-chan and Ritsu-chan fighting? Well, that just won’t do! Come on, make up, you two.”

Ritsu rolls onto his stomach. “We’re not fighting, Nacchan. We just—”

“Hey!” Izumi interjects, perhaps a little more forcefully than intended. “Don’t just go saying whatever you like.”

Ritsu is surprisingly docile in his response. “Uh, yeah, sorry Secchan. Like I said, I’ll go instead.”

He stands up and brushes himself off before heading out the door, a shiver running down Izumi’s spine as he passes by.

Leo grabs at his hair and tugs violently. “Ughhhh, Sena and Rittsu are keeping secrets!”

Well _duh._ He doesn’t want _anyone_ finding out about something as awful as this. “I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”

Leo’s entire demeanor changes in a flash, and he shoves his finger in Leo’s face, poking his nose as he laughs. “That’s fine, I’ll just imagine it! Ahh, I can see it now—it’s coming to me!”

“Nothing’s coming to you, dumbass,” Izumi says, swatting Leo’s hand away. “Just leave it alone.”

“No, I’ve got it!” he exclaims, fumbling for one of the pens he’s always carrying. “Inspiration’s come! I told you I was gonna write a new song, Sena! I’m gonna title it the ‘Sena and Rittsu Are Dumb Babies and Won’t Tell Their Beloved Friends Anything Ever So I Hope They Rot’ song! An original by the genius Tsukinaga Leo…!”

“God, you’re obnoxious,” Izumi says, pushing farther into the room as he pushes Ritsu farther into the back of his mind. “Let’s just start practice.”

“But Ritsu-senpai left,” Tsukasa points out. “We won’t be able to do a true rehearsal without him.”

Izumi bristles at the mention of Ritsu’s very name, and he tries his best to shake it off. “Not my problem. Get in formation.”

“Insubordination!” Leo protests, standing tall and proud. “I’m the king around here!”

Izumi rolls his eyes. “You don’t even like being called that.”

“Whatever!” Leo sticks out his tongue and twirls around. Izumi can imagine a tune already dancing in Leo’s head. “Okay, get in formation! The king’s orders are absolute!”

Arashi’s chuckle sounds more like a sigh, and she pulls on Tsukasa’s hand to join up with Izumi and Leo. Leo puts on a song and claps twice, signaling the beginning of practice, and Izumi makes it about four steps into the dance before he feels a prickle of intense heat in his chest and he gasps out loud.

The music plays on as three pairs of eyes shift their focus to him.

“Sena-senpai?” Tsukasa says, arms falling to his side. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he manages, “I’m…”

He’s what?

“I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

The room is spinning around him, and there’s an emptiness in him that longs to be filled with—with _something._ How’s he supposed to know what that something is?

But more than that is the urge to _go._ He wants, needs to get out of here, follow the pull to god-knows-where, find whatever’s waiting for him.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes this is probably another one of that damn vampire’s tricks. Because really, what else would it be? He doesn’t get sick, especially not so conveniently.

He goes through the motions as best he can, vaguely acknowledging the three bodies around him. Their presence only serves to agitate him further—because they’re not _him,_ because they’re not fucking Ritsu.

He wants to kill him for this.

His mind is screaming at him so loudly he can’t hear Leo giving directions. And it only gets louder the more he fights it, the longer he stays here without doing anything.

He needs to get it together. He needs to breathe, slowly, concertedly, make these weird feelings die away because surely, _surely,_ they’ll go away if he just ignores them. They may have this weird, freaky _thing_ between them now, but nothing’s changed. Definitely.

He just needs—

But Ritsu needs him.

He snarls.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says, the words coming out all at once in his rush. They’re barely louder than the song playing, but it makes everyone stop nonetheless.

Arashi makes a face. “But we’re in the middle of practice? Literally in the _middle_ of a song, Izumi-chan.”

The need to _go_ is gnawing at him now, his breath quick and jagged, searching for some kind of out. His eyes land on an unassuming phone hiding under the basket of fruit on the kotatsu. Bingo.

“Kuma-kun left his phone,” he says, tapping impatiently on his pants leg. “I’ll go give it back.”

Leo raises an eyebrow. “I thought you guys were fighting.”

“We already said we’re not.” He grabs the phone, not willing to waste another second on excuses, and bolts out the door.

He’s not sure he should be questioning the logistics of freaky vampire biology shit, but he has no idea _why_ his legs somehow seem to know exactly which direction to head in. His hands clench around Ritsu’s phone as he turns right, then left, then outside into the too-bright afternoon sun.

He spots a deformed lump on a bench in the garden terrace, and even while the urgency screaming in his brain dies down now that Ritsu’s in sight, his questions about how the hell any of this even works only grow.

He shoves those questions down and barrels on ahead, stomping toward the lump with all intents to give Ritsu the biggest earful he’s ever gotten.

“Kuma-kun!”

Ritsu doesn’t even move, and as Izumi draws in he realizes that his eyes are shut tight—he’s _asleep._

What the fuck.

Izumi shakes his shoulder, letting out perhaps a little too much of his pent-up stress—and Ritsu starts falling, rolling off the bench. Izumi dives to the ground to save him, using both hands to push him back up.

So of course they’re at eye level and way way way too close when Ritsu blinks open his eyes and stares at him. “Secchan?”

And no, it’s not fair how innocent and cute he sounds right now with that sleepy, quiet tone. “You’re the one who wanted me here, right? But you’re out here _sleeping_ and wasting my precious time!”

“I wanted you here…?” Ritsu repeats, squinting his eyes as he thinks. “But I’ve been sleeping the whole time.”

Izumi shoves Ritsu again. “Nuh-uh. No way. I didn’t go through all of… _that,_ just for you to say you were _sleeping.”_

“But I was,” he responds. “I was having a dream about Maa-kun, and then—”

He cuts off, eyes widening as he pales. He clears his throat, looks away, brushes Izumi’s hand off of him.

“Never mind.”

“No, this involves me, too. Fess up, Kuma-kun. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Ritsu tries to turn away before realizing there’s nowhere for him to hide, then falls limp on the bench. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Izumi clenches his fist.

Ritsu reaches out and pats Izumi’s head, like he’s a dog or something. “Cut it out, Secchan, your anger is _so_ annoying. I can feel that kinda thing now, remember?”

“That’s my line,” Izumi grumbles. “And I can _feel_ plenty on my side too, you know. Maybe you should remember whose fault this is.”

Ritsu groans. “Ughhh, get over it already. I said I was sorry.”

“Uh, no, actually, I’m pretty sure you didn’t. In fact, all I remember is you being mad at me because I’m not Isara.”

“Well _yeah,”_ Ritsu retorts, shooting a glare at him. “Why would I wanna be stuck with someone who isn’t Maa-kun for the rest of my life?”

Izumi scoffs. “Like I wanna be stuck with you? I had my whole future planned out with Yuu-kun. There wasn’t exactly room for you third-wheeling anywhere in there.”

“You’re the one who’s third-wheeling.”

Izumi throws his hands up—they’re not getting anywhere like this, and he still doesn’t have an answer to his question. “We’re both third-wheeling for each other. It sucks, whatever. Now just tell me whatever it is you wanted so I can go back to practice and live my life. I’m not your damn slave, you know.”

“I know that…” Somehow, Ritsu sounds almost guilty. “I didn’t call you out here, Secchan.”

Izumi blinks. “But—”

“I didn’t _mean_ to call you out here,” he amends. “It’s not like I’m some expert on this, you know. It’s my… obviously it’s my first time doing this.”

Izumi sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You and me both.”

“It might have been my, uh,” Ritsu hedges, refusing to look at Izumi, “my dream. That called you. Or something. I dunno.”

“Your dream.”

Ritsu nods.

“So you can activate your weird powers even when you’re not aware of it.”

Ritsu nods again.

“Why the hell did Sakuma say this was a mutually beneficial relationship?” Izumi asks to no one in particular. “I’m just being pulled around on a string here. There’s nothing beneficial about it!”

“It’s an old evolutionary trait,” Ritsu explains. “The vampire gains abilities that will help protect their, uh, human, and in return, the human becomes fine-tuned to their vampire’s… needs.”

He finishes lamely, leaving Izumi with questions that rapidly veer off into indecent territory.

_“Needs?”_ It comes out as little more than a squeak, and he regrets speaking altogether as soon as he does.

Ritsu flies upward, sitting ramrod straight and knocking Izumi back onto his ass with the suddenness of it all. He throws his hands out in front of him and waves them wildly, an unexpected burst of energy this early in the day.

“No! Not! Those kinds! Of needs!” he shouts, apparently forgetting that there are still students around and they are most definitely staring at them right now.

Izumi must have forgotten about the students too, because he shouts back just as loudly. “Then what the fuck are you talking about!”

“Like basic stuff!” Ritsu’s face is red now, and he covers it with his hands to hide away. “If you were Maa-kun you’d understand.”

“What does ‘Maa-kun’ have that I don’t? Jeez,” Izumi grumbles under his breath. “Fine, I get it. So is that what this is? I’m your little plaything now? You just order me around and I have to obey?”

“No, you don’t get it,” Ritsu says from behind his hands. “Nghh, I really can’t do this after all. I wish that stupid thing pretending to be my brother were here to explain it instead.”

Izumi sighs and pushes himself back into a crouch, grabbing at Ritsu’s hands to pry them away. Ritsu fights back, and actually, has he always been this strong? But he gives in rather quickly, letting his hands fall to his lap, still enclosed in Izumi’s.

“Just say it plainly,” he implores. It’s not even been one day of this bullshit, and he’s already sick of it.

Ritsu mumbles something unintelligible and looks away. “Like if I’m hungry, or if I really really really want you to do something, you’ll be able to feel it. Since we’re… connected.”

Ritsu fumbles around, but he doesn’t break free of Izumi’s grip on his hands. His pout makes him look younger, and Izumi has to remind himself that they’re still the same age.

“And like anija said last night, you’ll probably feel compelled to act on whatever it is you’re feeling.”

“And that’s why I’m here?”

Ritsu scratches at the back of his neck, his bangs falling in his eyes. “I think… it probably gets easier to handle. I’m not a human, so I dunno. But this is all probably because it’s new for you.”

Izumi tries to process it, he really does, but it still sounds like the same shit as before. Still, it’s not like he has a choice or whatever. “Fine. Okay.”

“Okay?” Ritsu blinks.

“Yeah. Okay. Then tell me what you want. I’m just a human, so you can’t expect me to figure these things out right away.”

“You’re not mad?” Ritsu’s wide eyes and parted lips stir something in Izumi’s chest.

But that doesn’t matter. “Of course I am. I’m pissed. I didn’t ask for any of this, but I’m still stuck with it. There’s no fixing it, right? Even if I complain nothing’s going to change. So just tell me what you wanted already.”

Ritsu huffs, all traces of vulnerability disappearing. “I told you already. I don’t need anything.”

“Like hell you don’t.” And as if on cue, there’s a pounding in his head urging him to do _something,_ but there’s no way he can figure out what that is. “Quit lying.”

“Mm, but it’s true. I don’t need anything. I don’t…” Ritsu trails off, looking down, “need anything, from you or anyone else.”

Izumi narrows his eyes. His headache and the need to act don’t go away, and so he leans in, inspecting Ritsu as if his face is going to tell him something.

Ritsu just leans back with a yelp, pulling a hand out of Izumi’s grip and covering his nose. “Too close, Secchan! Your scent is too strong!”

He tugs at his shirt and sniffs it. “Huh? I smell? But I barely even participated in practice today.”

“No, your—” Ritsu’s face blooms a nice shade of pink again. “Your blood.”

Izumi drops his hand. “Oh.”

“Just stay over there,” Ritsu commands, all the while Izumi’s mind is calling for him to come closer.

Suddenly, he gets it. “You want my blood.”

Ritsu shakes his head with too much force. “I’m fine! It’s only because you smell good! Stop worrying so much!”

“I don’t have a choice,” Izumi argues, pushing himself farther into Ritsu’s space. “My head’s killing me because of you. And I’m pretty sure painkillers won’t help cure a supernatural bond-induced migraine. You want my blood, right? Just take it and stop being stubborn.”

Ritsu huffs, but he relaxes all the same, finally giving in. “You’re mean, Secchan.”

“I think this counts as generous, considering it’s _my blood_ we’re talking about.”

Ritsu hesitates, fingers hovering in the air around Izumi’s shoulder. But he pulls Izumi up onto the bench next to him, thighs pressed together, and brushes the small tufts of hair away from his neck.

Ritsu’s touch is electrifying, and Izumi can’t for the life of him figure out _why,_ since he’d done this exact same thing yesterday with no weird feelings. It must be another _side effect_ of this damn imprint, because there’s no other explanation for the way his heart races at just a single puff of breath on his neck.

But this is better, he realizes as soft lips press against his skin and there’s a sharp sting as teeth pierce into him. Because the pain only lasts an instant, because it’s replaced by a rush of pleasure that has him leaning into Ritsu’s touch, because yesterday this didn’t feel _nearly_ as good.

The back of his mind screams that this is weird and wrong on so, so many levels, but his consciousness is enveloped entirely by Ritsu and frankly, he doesn’t give a damn.


	3. third beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That… was weird,” Izumi mumbles breathlessly into Ritsu’s chest, still too weak to sit up on his own.
> 
> “You liked it,” Ritsu points out.
> 
> “Shut up.”

Ritsu didn’t really think it would taste _this good._

He grips Izumi’s shoulders, nails digging into skin, and he has to admit that even Maa-kun’s blood can’t compare to this.

Izumi’s hand is wrapped in his hair, pushing them closer together, and when he lets out a little moan _god,_ it does things to Ritsu he promises himself he will never, ever, ever mention out loud. Ever.

But he’s doing things to Izumi, too. And he can _feel_ it. Every beat of his racing heart, the twinge of pleasure that grips him and has Izumi pulling Ritsu ever closer, the rush of adrenaline that has even Ritsu curling his toes.

Every rush of sensation that Izumi feels, Ritsu gets secondhand. And somehow, it only makes him want to stay like this forever.

Still, he can feel the sag in Izumi’s arm and jagged breath on his ears and everything inside Ritsu is screaming that _enough is enough._

So he pulls away, trying his hardest to ignore the little whine of protest that spills from Izumi’s lips the same way his blood drips from Ritsu’s. Izumi slumps over now that Ritsu isn’t holding him up, and Ritsu lets him curl against his chest, hair tickling Ritsu’s nose.

God, that was amazing.

Ritsu can almost see why that brother imposter was so adamant that this imprint is actually a good thing. Now, even in the harsh rays of the sun, Ritsu feels _alive,_ more awake than he’s been in weeks. All thanks to Izumi.

For just a moment, he doesn’t even wish it were Mao in his arms right now.

He finds himself absently stroking Izumi’s hair, and the little warm swirls of comfort he receives from Izumi tell him to keep going—so he does.

He’s not a _monster,_ after all. He’ll take care of the human kind enough to give him blood. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself, trying to drown out the little voice in his head that that speaks his own selfish desires to take all of Izumi for himself.

It’s just the imprint talking, he thinks. It’s the stupid dumb imprint making him feel these things, making him so fine-tuned to Izumi’s presence, making him want to cling to him.

Ahh, this is really the worst.

“That… was weird,” Izumi mumbles breathlessly into Ritsu’s chest, still too weak to sit up on his own.

“You liked it,” Ritsu points out.

“Shut up.”

A rustle of leaves alerts Ritsu to an intruder, and he draws Izumi closer to him, positioning himself as if to act as a shield. But the person who pops out from behind the bush isn’t dangerous to anything except their pride.

“Ritsu-senpai, Sena-senpai,” Tsukasa says, not even daring to look at them. His face is a deep red, and his fingers fumble around, clasping together, unclasping, threading and unthreading, playing with the hem of his sweat jacket. “Narukami-senpai sent me to come get you two.”

Izumi groans. “Oh my _god.”_

“Suu-chan,” Ritsu says with a chilling smile. “You didn’t see anything, did you? Because you’re a good kid.”

Tsukasa’s eyes are wide when he turns his head to meet Ritsu’s gaze. He swallows and hesitates for a moment before finally conceding. “I didn’t see anything, right. Nothing at all.”

“Good boy. I’ll pat you on the head later.” Ritsu runs his fingers through Izumi’s hair once more and looks down at him, and a feeling that is decidedly _his_ pricks at his heart. “Secchan, can you walk?”

Izumi hums, deliberating the question, but ultimately nods. “Of course I can.”

He hesitates just a moment, a cold wave of uncertainty and longing rushing through Ritsu’s veins, and then eases his grip around Ritsu’s waist just enough to push himself up.

He comes crashing back onto the bench.

“Sena-senpai?!” Tsukasa lurches forward, but Ritsu holds up a hand to stop him.

“No you can’t, dummy,” Ritsu responds as Izumi’s fingers find their way back around him, curling into his shirt. He’s still so close, and Ritsu can feel the warmth of his body pressed flush against him, of his emotions dancing in his throat, of his blood on his tongue.

Izumi takes a deep, shaky breath and concedes. “Fine. Help me, then.”

“Yeah.” It’s almost effortless to lift Izumi up, and he feels stronger than he has in ages. It’s obvious enough why—he fed both yesterday and today, and even though he only took a very small amount this time, the energizing boost from Izumi’s blood feels like it’ll last him for a month.

It’s also why Izumi’s legs are shaky as he takes a step forward. Ritsu is stupid for getting them in this mess, but Izumi is way stupider. He _told_ Izumi he didn’t want to do this, so he can’t be blamed. It’s _all_ Izumi’s fault.

He still feels a little guilty, though.

“I’ll help too, Ritsu-senpai.” Tsukasa moves in to prop Izumi up from the other side, and Ritsu can’t help the little snarl that rips out of his throat.

“Don’t touch him!”

Tsukasa jumps back with a yelp, dropping Izumi’s arm, and Ritsu’s face alights with burning heat.

“Hey, don’t scare him, Kuma-kun,” Izumi says, leaning his head on Ritsu’s shoulder. He nuzzles into the crook of his neck, and Ritsu sucks in a breath.

No—this isn’t right. That kind of thought—it doesn’t make any sense. He forces himself to relax and fights with his own thoughts, shoving them back and clinging to sensibility.

“Sorry, Suu-chan. You can help.” But he doesn’t bother waiting for Tsukasa before he pulls Izumi’s arm around him, brings Izumi ever closer, his heart pounding in his throat as he sets off.

Tsukasa catches up to them easily, eyeing Ritsu warily as he moves back to support Izumi’s other side, and together they all but shamble back to the studio.

When the door opens, Leo flies at them, knocking the trio to the floor. “Strike!”

“You’re not bowling, Ou-sama,” Arashi says with a long sigh. She grabs Leo by his collar and drags him off of them, offering her other hand to help them up.

“It was to test their reflexes,” Leo lies, twisting himself out of Arashi’s grip. “You all failed!”

Tsukasa takes Arashi’s hand and brushes himself off as he stands. “We wouldn’t have failed if we were not helping Sena-senpai, Leader. Your actions were much too careless.”

“Oh, did Sena finally fall over and die?” Leo cackles.

_“No,”_ Izumi grunts, glaring at him from the floor. “Kuma-kun, get off of me so I can go strangle him.”

Ritsu rolls away, not necessarily _encouraging_ Izumi but not necessarily _discouraging_ him, either. But regardless of his intent, Izumi can only make it into a sitting position before he’s clutching his head and his wave of nausea has Ritsu putting a hand to his own mouth, too.

“Quit moving around so much, Secchan,” he chastises, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

“What happened?” Arashi asks, leaning in. “Did you get into a fight, Izumi-chan?”

“He’s fine, Nacchan,” Ritsu assures her. “He just needs a little rest. Don’t worry about it.”

“I think I should be plenty worried about it, thank you very much.” But still Arashi doesn’t press the issue, taking a step back as Ritsu moves to stand over him.

“Let me help you, okay?”

Izumi holds his hand out for Ritsu to take without any hesitation this time, and Ritsu helps him into the room. He can feel eyes watching them as they stagger over to the kotatsu and as Ritsu tucks Izumi under its warm blanket.

He stands there for just a moment, weighing the pros and cons of being so close to Izumi, but the answer is obvious—he would do anything for his sweet, beautiful kotatsu. Besides, it means he’ll be closer to Izumi’s sweet scent, and right now he’s far too intoxicated to think that’s anything but a good idea.

So he grabs a mikan from the basket on top and snuggles underneath it as well. Izumi curls around him in an instant, adding to the warmth.

“At least it looks like our little Izumi-chan is getting along with Ritsu-chan again!” Arashi sings as Ritsu peels the mikan and hands it off to Izumi. “Did you two make up?”

“Mm, yep,” Ritsu says from the floor. “But we were never actually fighting.”

“I beg to differ,” Tsukasa says. “The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. But, ah, I’m glad you’re… feeling better, Ritsu-senpai.”

Leo puts himself right in front of Tsukasa’s face. “You’re talking kinda funny, Suo. Did you see something weird?”

Tsukasa goes rigid and his cheeks fill with color. “N–nothing at all!”

“Hmmm…” Leo taps his chin, then points an accusing finger at Ritsu and Izumi. “You’ve turned our precious Suo into a liar!”

“Not a very good one,” Ritsu says with a yawn.

“So you admit it!” Leo exclaims, lunging at them before Arashi grabs at him again, holding him back.

“Ou-sama, if you keep this up you’re seriously going to hurt Izumi-chan. No matter what he says, he’s clearly not feeling well. I want them to tell the truth, too, but we should use our words instead of our fists, right?”

Leo grumbles but falls slack in her grip, giving in. “Fine… What’s going on between you two? And don’t say ‘nothing’ ‘cause I’m not that dumb!”

Ritsu opens his mouth to come up with some convincing lie, but Izumi beats him to the punch. “So loud, Ou-sama… ‘S no big deal. Kuma-kun and I imprinted and whatever.”

The room is quiet for a moment, and Ritsu twists around to stare at him, eyes wide and incredulous. “Secchan?” he asks as if he were walking a tightrope, each syllable deliberate and harrowed. “I thought you didn’t want to…”

“Huh?” Izumi lifts his head, his brow drawn together as his gaze flies to meet Ritsu’s. His face is still paler than Ritsu would like, but it’s obvious that his strength is returning. Ritsu can feel more than just a numb buzzing of muted emotion from Izumi’s end, and it calms him.

“You didn’t want me to say anything,” Ritsu says slowly and clearly, “so I thought you wanted to keep it secret.”

“Keep wha—oh, shit.” Izumi’s head drops, forehead grazing against the floor, and Ritsu can see the scar he left on his neck. It’s hard _not_ to look at it. “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Arashi asks. “What’s this about an… imprint?”

Izumi growls at the floor. Ritsu figures that it’s his responsibility now to finish what Izumi started, but well, he’s never been one to really care much for responsibility.

“I, uh,” Tsukasa starts, and maybe it’s better this way because even though Ritsu already longs for the sweet embrace of death and Izumi only groans louder, at least neither of them has to actually _say_ the words. “When you sent me out to find Sena-senpai and Ritsu-senpai, I happened to oversee… something. That might be related.”

“Related how?” Leo asks, gripping at Tsukasa’s shoulders and shaking him, as if to force the words out of him. He probably needs to, since Tsukasa looks like he’s about to pass out after just _hinting_ at it.

“It looked like, um,” Tsukasa tries again, voice wobbling as Leo shakes him harder.

No, Ritsu decides, this is decidedly the worse option. He takes one for the team. “I was feeding on Secchan.”

Leo blinks. “That’s all?”

“‘That’s all,’ he says, as if it’s not strange enough,” Arashi mutters, hanging her head. But it immediately snaps up again. “Wait. But didn’t you just drink from him yesterday, too?”

“It’s not my fault,” Ritsu says, pointing at Izumi. “He made me do it.”

_“You_ made _me_ do it,” Izumi grumbles, never once looking up from the floor. The tips of his ears are pink.

Ritsu shakes his head because _no,_ Izumi doesn’t get to just one-up him like this. “That’s still not my fault ‘cause I was dreaming. And I told you I didn’t want to and you still made me.”

“That’s because your stupid _everything_ wouldn’t leave me alone until you did!” Izumi explodes, but there’s no heat in Ritsu’s gut, no anger clawing up his throat. Instead, all Izumi does is reach up and tug lightly on Ritsu’s hair. Like they’re not in the middle of a fight.

“I have no idea what’s going on right now,” Arashi admits, smothering her face with her hands.

“No, no, I think I got it,” Leo says. He holds his fingers up to his temples, concentrating hard, or maybe trying to move the kotatsu with his mind.

Arashi scrunches up her face. “I don’t think you do.”

Leo slumps over with a pout. “You have no idea what I was even gonna say.”

“Hm, let me guess,” she says with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Aliens abducted Izumi-chan and Ritsu-chan and replaced them with replicas, but now they’ve forgotten how humans are supposed to act so they’re talking about their strange alien biology and effectively giving themselves away—am I close?”

Leo jumps at her too suddenly, and she lets out a shrill cry as he attaches himself to her. “Naru! We’re like brain buddies! Can you read my mind? Tell me what I’m thinking right now!”

“Ou-sama, get off!” Arashi yells, trying and failing to throw him off. “I’m not built for fighting like this!”

“Wrong!” Leo cackles. “You’ll have to try harder than that!”

“Leader!” Tsukasa joins the fray, tugging at Leo’s waist in a futile attempt to free Arashi. “You cannot just—!”

Izumi relaxes visibly as he watches this happen. “Did we just get a get-out-of-jail-free card?”

“Nope!” Leo exclaims, launching himself off of Arashi and landing gracefully before them. He closes his fists and bonks them both on their heads.

Ritsu reaches up and rubs at his head as Izumi rolls his eyes. “Why do we have to listen to you?” Izumi asks, and he actually seems like his normal self again.

“Because I’m the king!” he announces, striking a pose. “And because seeing you two all lovey-dovey like this is kinda weird. Especially since you were fighting earlier.”

“I keep telling you, we weren’t—never mind.” Izumi huffs and seems to resolve himself, but not before he glances over at Ritsu, as if asking for backup, or reassurance, or comfort, or… something.

“It is kinda my fault,” Ritsu says. “I wasn’t thinking about it, and I accidentally… uh… yesterday we…”

“Imprinted,” Izumi says, head held as high as possible while still laying on the floor in some display of false confidence. “We imprinted.”

“Imprinted?” Tsukasa repeats, the word coming off his tongue in a weird accent.

And of course now they have to _explain_ it. _Of course_ they do.

This is still undeniably the worst.

“It’s a vampire thing,” Ritsu starts. “Like a telepathic bond. I guess.”

It’s _way more_ than that, but there is absolutely no way he’s about to tell any of them what happened on the garden terrace. That is just going to have to stay his and Izumi’s and Tsukasa’s little secret—and he’s not above bullying kids into silence.

“Hm, weird,” Arashi says with all the flippancy of someone who’s just been told that water is wet. “How do you fix it?”

“Well, uh, you don’t,” Ritsu replies awkwardly. “It’s not supposed to be fixed.”

“So you two are… telepathically linked for the rest of your lives?” Tsukasa asks.

Ritsu expects Izumi to be the first to jump in with some rude complaint about how this is awful, terrible, _so_ annoying, but instead he _smiles,_ lips quirking just the tiniest bit at the corners. “Yeah, apparently.”

_Are you actually okay with this?_ Ritsu wants to ask, but he keeps his mouth closed because he’s terrified of Izumi’s answer, no matter what it may be.

It hits him that it’s only been a day. Just one single day, and things have already changed this much.

And they’re stuck like this. Forever.

Leo is laughing again as Izumi struggles to explain more of the less embarrassing details. “Cut it out, Ou-sama! You’re the one who wanted to know.”

Leo heaves a few times, wiping away a tear from his eye. “But who knew it’d be so funny! This is the best present you could ever give me, Sena! Christmas has come early…!”

“You are _so_ annoying!” Izumi reaches out and swats at him, just barely grazing against him as Leo dances backward. “Come back here so I can bash your face in, dumbass!”

“Gotta catch me first!” Leo sings, running around the room even though no one is chasing after him. It’s not like Izumi could even if he wanted to, and Ritsu can _feel_ just how badly he wants to.

He puts a hand on Izumi’s shoulder as if to hold him back, and even though Izumi’s brow is still wrinkled with irritation, he relaxes under the touch.

It’s bad, Ritsu realizes. He knows that imprinting is supposed to strengthen the sense of attachment between a human and vampire, but this is too much, too sudden. He wants to believe that it’s just the lingering effects of drinking Izumi’s blood, but—but what if it’s _not?_

What if it only gets worse?

Guilt crushes Ritsu, and he’s infinitely glad that Izumi can’t sense his emotions. He can’t stop thinking, turning the question over in his head, wondering what this newly rewritten future is supposed to hold for them.

Izumi bristles and turns back to Ritsu, searching his face for the answer to the question in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Stop mothering me, Secchan,” Ritsu says instead of giving him the answer he wants so badly. It’s for his own good. “You should take a nap and get your energy back up.”

“You’re the one mothering me,” Izumi points out, but the corner of his mouth quirks up in a little smile and it’s cute and boyish and Ritsu wants to scream how completely wrong this is. “Well, it’s not like I can sleep with Ou-sama screeching at the top of his lungs like some caged animal.”

“I _am_ caged, Sena!” Leo exclaims, coming to a halt. “A poor caged bird who longs to spread his wings and _fly…!”_

“Where the hell did you get that idea from,” Izumi grumbles, but his exhaustion is dragging at him and it comes out slurred. He rests his head on his arms and settles in just a little closer to Ritsu. “Shut up so I can sleep.”

Arashi eyes them with sparkling eyes and Tsukasa still won’t make eye contact, but at least Leo has enough sense to stop yelling and actually let Izumi sleep.

But Ritsu is gorged on blood and wide awake, and though he closes his eyes and tries to sleep too—he’s stuck under this kotatsu so long as Izumi is wrapped around him like this—he can’t stop thinking how much worse this situation is going to get from here on out.


	4. fourth beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s learned two things: that the rest of Knights knows about their imprint now, and that apparently whenever Ritsu drinks his blood from now on, he can expect to feel _that way_ again.
> 
> He can’t be sure whether he hates that or not.

Ritsu’s avoiding him. That prick.

He hasn’t been to practice in the last two weeks, and Sakuma won’t confirm or deny whether he’s even seen him. Won’t answer his phone, isn’t at home after school—it’s like he’s disappeared from the earth. So yeah, Izumi’s pretty certain he’s being avoided.

Even more annoying than the avoidance itself is the _reason_ he’s being avoided. Once again, it’s completely Ritsu’s fault here; how can Ritsu blame _him_ when it’s those freaky vampire powers that made him act the way he did? _So_ annoying.

A dull ache settles into his stomach and a barely-there whisper brushes against his ear. He can almost hear it in Ritsu’s honey-sweet lilt, begging for him in indecipherable words and feeling—Izumi rolls his eyes.

This is easy to ignore, now that he’s used to the strange sensations. He clenches his jaw and wills it away until the ache creeps back and the whispers fade into white noise. He lets out a tiny breath and returns to the absentminded doodles in his notebook.

He frowns down at Ritsu’s name resting just beneath a poorly-drawn umbrella before scribbling it out.

To be honest, Izumi barely even remembers anything from that day, and it’s like grasping at smoke to cling to even one memory. But Leo teases him for it endlessly, uncaring that he _clearly_ wasn’t in his right mind, so he has a pretty good idea of what happened.

And yeah, maybe he did act a bit too cozy and clingy and (Tsukinaga Leo CV:) “lovey-dovey” with Ritsu, but that’s not his fault, dammit. It’s the _freaky vampire powers._ And as far as he’s aware, there’s only two vampires in this stupid school and he is _definitely_ not one of them.

He’s learned two things since then: that the rest of Knights knows about their imprint now, and that apparently whenever Ritsu drinks his blood from now on, he can expect to feel _that way_ again.

He can’t be sure whether he hates that or not.

He slams his hands down on his desk and stands, ignoring the way Morisawa’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. He has way better things he could do during lunch break, and not even one of those includes internally monologuing about Ritsu like some lovesick maiden.

Who cares if Ritsu is avoiding him? It’s better this way, anyway. He doesn’t have to worry about the imprint if Ritsu is far, far away. If it’s like this, he can pretend nothing ever happened and just go on with his life.

So he does, and he walks with confidence through the halls because he knows _exactly_ where he’ll start. Who needs Ritsu, anyway? Not him, not when he has—

“Yuu-kun,” he sings as he throws open the door to the practice room. Just as expected, the whole of Trickstar is there, frozen in a pose while the song continues on without them.

“I–Izumi-san?!” Makoto squeaks, falling back into Hidaka’s arms. Hidaka grunts and barely manages to keep him upright, but the fact that he does is a little impressive, what with Makoto’s limbs flailing about. “What are you doing here!”

“I came to see you, of course.” Izumi barges into the room without a second thought, arms out to envelop Makoto in a loving embrace.

Makoto dodges, and Isara wedges himself between them. “Uh, Sena-senpai, I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’re kind of in the middle of practice right now. The SS is coming up soon, after all; we can’t just wait around for it to come to us.”

Izumi waves his hand and shoves Isara aside because really, how dare this kid get in between him and his beautiful, perfect Yuu-kun?

Makoto shivers in Izumi’s embrace—or maybe it’s just normal shaking—but Izumi pays no mind to that and lets himself bask in the presence of his most treasured person. “Yuu-kun, I’ve missed you. You haven’t come to see me lately.”

Makoto shakes his head, freeing his hair of Izumi’s playful fingers. “No, Izumi-san, I’ve never come to see you before, actually. It’s literally always the other way around.”

“Well, we should change that! If you love me, you’ll come seek me out, won’t you?” Somehow, Makoto manages to wrestle himself out of Izumi’s hug, and he’s behind a human shield comprised of the rest of Trickstar before Izumi can blink.

“Yes, exactly.” Makoto says each word with care and precision, waving his hands in front of him as if to aid with Izumi’s understanding. “That’s why I don’t come to see you.”

“Ahh, you’re too shy!” Izumi gushes, heart spilling over with affection.

“How did you get that from what he said…?” Hidaka asks.

Izumi ignores him. “That’s fine, that’s fine! Onii-chan will keep coming to you then, so don’t worry!”

“Please don’t!” Makoto pleads.

“You know, seaweed head,” Akehoshi says, interrupting whatever Izumi was about to say, “you’re interrupting our practice.”

Somehow Akehoshi withstands the force of Izumi’s glare, not even flinching under its heat. “Then I’ll just take Yuu-kun with me. I didn’t come here for the rest of you, anyway.”

“Actually, Ukki’s been having the most trouble of all. His glasses fall off when he spins at this part in the middle here—” He mimics the dance, then uses his hand to demonstrate the glasses falling off, “—and then since basically his whole personality is gone, he can’t finish the song.”

Makoto leans over onto Akehoshi’s shoulder. “It’s true; as soon as my glasses come off, I—” Akehoshi snatches the glasses off his face and Makoto cuts off, eyes going dead and posture going slack. “Hello. My name is Yuuki Makoto,” he says in a clipped monotone.

“Thirty-two seconds,” Hidaka reports, making a note on a piece of paper he wasn’t holding before.

Akehoshi twirls the glasses around a finger. “So you see, seaweed, we need to keep training him so he doesn’t make us lose the SS!”

Isara takes the glasses and fixes them back on Makoto’s nose. Makoto blinks, color returning to his face. “Huh? What happened? I felt my life force draining—did you take my glasses again, Akehoshi-kun?”

“I couldn’t help it, Ukki!” Akehoshi presses his hands together in a plea. “I wanted something to remember you by, and what better than your very essence, right?”

“Remember me?” Makoto repeats, pitching up at the end. “I’m not dying, Akehoshi-kun!”

“You’re not? Then I guess I don’t need to ask to be put in your will!” Akehoshi laughs and pats Makoto on the back, and Izumi grimaces.

“Don’t defile _my_ Yuu-kun like that,” he says, moving to separate them. “You’ll get your germs on him.”

Makoto yelps and jumps back, but suddenly Izumi isn’t paying attention to that anymore.

Because the ache has returned.

And this one comes in a wave so strong it gives him pause, and when he comes to he realizes he’s been frozen in his awkward position long enough to draw the uncertain stares of everyone in Trickstar.

He shakes his head free of the sensation. If Ritsu’s going to keep ignoring him, then there’s no way in hell he’s going to be the first one to seek him out. Let that brat suffer for all he cares.

The whispers feel like a gale upon his neck.

“Izumi-san, are you okay?” Makoto asks, tilting his head as he inspects him.

Izumi’s response is too forceful, overcompensating for everything he’s trying to shove down. “Are you worried about me, Yuu-kun? See, I knew you loved me! You’re such a tease sometimes, you know?”

He takes a step toward Makoto, fully intending to embrace him again and take in the comfort of being in Makoto’s arms, but the wave comes back stronger, a pit of emptiness in his stomach that creeps up his throat and causes him to stagger to the side.

God dammit, just when things were going back to normal, Ritsu’s _hungry._

But—can’t he just drink from someone else? There’s nothing in the vampire rulebook saying he _can’t,_ right? They haven’t seen each other in two weeks; surely Ritsu’s sated himself with someone else, like his beloved _Maa-kun_ or whatever.

Izumi definitely, absolutely doesn’t need to go running after him now. Ritsu dug this hole, after all. He can lay himself six feet under for all he cares. He has better things to worry about than whether or not the guy he’s supernaturally bound to for life is feeling a bit peckish.

“Sena-senpai?” It’s that Hidaka kid, he thinks, but it sounds so distant and unclear it’s hard to say for sure.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and though Isara speaks right into his ear it sounds garbled, staticky. “Should we take you to the infirmary?”

“No, I’m fine,” Izumi says through gritted teeth. Right, he’s fine. And so is Ritsu. And if he isn’t, who gives a damn? It’s not his problem what Ritsu does in his free time. Knights is an individualistic unit, after all. They just do their own thing, and no one gets in anyone else’s way. It’s been like that for as long as Knights has existed, and he’s not about to go changing their modus operandi on some whim.

A rush of anxiety leaves Izumi trembling, and he can only hope it’s not noticeable to anyone but himself.

“Oh,” Isara says, and though he no longer sounds like they’re underwater, it’s so loud now it’s almost painful. “Is this because of that, um…”

“Don’t,” Izumi warns. Knights may have found out through his own stupidity, but he’ll be damned if anyone else in this school figures out the truth. He is not about to live his life known as that idiot who got himself imprinted with a vampire.

Isara hums, and though Izumi’s vision is swimming he can see him ushering the rest of Trickstar out of the room with promises Izumi can’t hear and doesn’t care to hear.

When he comes back, he puts a hand on Izumi’s shoulder, and under that light pressure Izumi crumples to the ground, gripping at his stomach like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t hold himself together.

“Sena-senpai, what’s going on?”

There’s something stuck in his throat, but Izumi forces himself to speak anyway. “I didn’t ask you to worry about me.”

“Then think of this as me worrying about Ritsu,” Isara continues without missing a beat. “That’s okay, right?”

And really, Izumi has no argument for that. “He’s hungry. Probably.”

There’s no _probably_ about it, but it feels weird to be so sure about what’s going on in someone else’s body.

Isara’s hand is fire-hot as it rubs circles on his back. “He told me he fed yesterday, though. He shouldn’t be…”

They come to the same conclusion.

“God fucking dammit,” Izumi spits. “That’s why it’s this bad.”

“Do you know where he is?”

How should he know?—is the answer he’d like to give, but the tug he feels in his limbs says otherwise.

Ritsu’s on campus, and he has a pretty good idea of where.

So he nods, and Isara helps him to his feet, and as soon as he stops fighting the sensations he’s suddenly invigorated, his breath returning and adrenaline rushing through his veins.

He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to Isara. It’s not like they’re real chummy anyway, and he’s far too busy cursing Ritsu, cursing himself, as he makes his way to the rooftop, ignoring the stares that follow him down the halls.

The freaky vampire powers direct his gaze straight to where Ritsu is lying on a bench, half-hidden by shade. If he weren’t breathing so erratically, Izumi would think Ritsu were already dead from the way he’s splayed out.

His heart skips a beat at the very thought of it—then he grimaces because there’s absolutely no reason for his heart to be skipping at _any_ thought of Ritsu.

“Hey, Kuma-kun,” he says, with much less bite than he’d intended. He can’t find it in him to be annoyed at Ritsu now, what with all these foreign sensations ripping through him.

“Secchan…” Ritsu carries his name on a breath, and then he rolls over. “Go away.”

“No?” He grips Ritsu’s shoulder and forces him to turn back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Ritsu fights him, trying his best to shake free. Even in his weakened state, he’s still a match for Izumi. That prick. “I’m trying to sleep, so go away.”

“You are not,” Izumi retorts, and he decides he’s had enough of this back and forth. He climbs on top of Ritsu and sits on his stomach, holding him in place. “When was the last time you ate?”

Ritsu’s eyes slit open just enough to glare at Izumi. “Why do you care?”

“You know exactly why,” Izumi says. “Because I don’t have a choice.”

“You should’ve ignored it,” Ritsu shoots back, and Izumi is _sure_ he catches a pout on his lips. “Just like you’ve been this whole time. You’ve gotten good at this, Secchan.”

Izumi pins Ritsu’s arms to the bench when he starts fighting back again. “Yeah, well, I’m a fast learner. But I can’t ignore it when it feels like you’re _dying,_ you know. So answer my question. How long ago?”

Ritsu is quiet for a moment, and Izumi is sure he’s not getting an answer because _jeez_ this guy is stubborn, but it seems today is just full of surprises. “Two weeks.”

The number takes a second to process in his mind, but when it does he digs his nails into Ritsu’s wrists, leaning down so far that their noses almost touch. “Two weeks? You’re telling me you haven’t eaten at all since that time we…?”

Ritsu goes still, a tiny sigh escaping through his nose. “Secchan, you’re hurting me.”

“You’re hurting yourself, idiot,” Izumi says even as the hunger pangs start up again. “It’s not like you’re physically incapable of feeding from other people, are you?”

Ritsu wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue. “They don’t taste good anymore. Your blood is…”

“So you’re just gonna starve yourself instead?” Izumi shouldn’t care—this isn’t his problem. “I didn’t really think you were _this_ stupid. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be spending time with Yuu-kun—”

“Yuu-kun this, Yuu-kun that,” Ritsu mocks, turning up his nose. “What about me?”

Izumi squints down at him. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Then Ritsu’s eyes widen and he turns away to hide his face. “Uh. N–nothing. Never mind.”

“Actually, wait a second. You’re always going on and on and _on_ about Isara, too. But you’re getting onto _me_ for talking about my love life?” Izumi tightens his grip and glares at him.

“That’s different!” Ritsu defends, still not quite looking Izumi in the eye.

“How so?”

“Maa-kun and I are destined to be together,” he says, still struggling to break free.

“I take it back,” Izumi scoffs, the heat that suddenly rises up inside him boiling over into his words. “You’re not stupid. You’re just selfish.”

Ritsu rolls his eyes. “So what? Maa-kun loves that about me.”

“You are literally just proving my point.”

“Ugh, whatever. I just don’t wanna hear about Yuu-kun anymore.” Ritsu finally manages wrench himself free of Izumi’s grasp and shoves his hands over his ears as if to illustrate his point.

Izumi scoffs. “I feel like I’m raising a child. You’re being _so_ annoying today.”

“Yeah?” Ritsu retorts, shoving his face in Izumi’s. “Well, you are, too. You were much cuter the other day.”

“What, when I was completely off my rockers thanks to you?” There’s a feeling, an answer, niggling at the back of Izumi’s brain, and he reaches for it, coming closer to an understanding. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re _jealous.”_

He laughs, expecting Ritsu to get mad and protest, but that dies off when he realizes Ritsu isn’t going to say anything at all. In fact, his entire demeanor has changed, eyes cast to the side, hand covering his face, cheeks blotchy with color.

“Oh my god, you _are_ jealous,” Izumi says, hushed and filled with whatever emotion is stirring in his chest.

“Cut it out, Secchan,” Ritsu pleads. “You know it’s just because of the imprint. You’re the same way—and don’t tell me you’re not because I know what you’re feeling.”

“I’m not making fun of you. You can tell, can’t you?”

Ritsu still won’t look at him. Izumi wants to reach out, to grab him, to _make_ him look his way, to—no, no. That’s not right, he realizes with a start. It’s exactly what Ritsu’s talking about. It’s just because of the imprint.

He forces himself to relax, loosening his grip around Ritsu. Still that same jealousy he just accused Ritsu of burns in his chest, the heat just as overpowering regardless of whether it’s real or fabricated.

When he speaks again, his voice is raw, almost pleading. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Kuma-kun?”

The silence around them spans four heartbeats, and then Ritsu must sense how badly Izumi wants it because he finally looks back at him, clear red eyes staring up into his. “I don’t want anything to change. I don’t want to change. I don’t want you to change. If we keep going like this, we’re going to reach a point where we can’t turn back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Like the other day,” Ritsu continues. “Since when do you care enough about me to put your life on the line? You didn’t have to let me drink from you, and you almost collapsed because of it.”

Izumi pulls a face. “What else was I supposed to do when it was what you wanted?”

“That’s what I mean, Secchan.” Ritsu covers his face again, pinches his nose to protect himself from Izumi’s scent. “I’ll keep wanting more, and you’ll just keep giving. I’m selfish, just like you said. It’s hard to control myself when you’re…”

He’s right. As much as Izumi wants to deny it, he can’t. If they continue down this road, it’ll only get worse. If they stay in contact, this thing between them, the invisible string tying them together, will only tighten. It’s already cutting into their skin, drawing blood whenever they try to break free.

But—“I don’t want to.”

“What?”

“What’s the point of turning back?” And Izumi’s face is heating up, and he knows exactly what all this sounds like, but the words come out like water drawn from a well, and he plows ahead without stopping. “It’s not like we can just go back to the beginning and do it all over. We both know that you can’t change the past.”

Ritsu frowns. “Is that really what you want, Secchan? Don’t you at least want to fight it?”

“Well, duh.” Or at least, he should want to fight it.

He doesn’t tell Ritsu the truth—that they _are_ changing, that he’s losing his will to fight it. That he’s falling fast, and he’s not even sure he cares whether it’s because of the imprint or not. But he’s sure Ritsu can feel it all anyway, each prick of emotion shared between them.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just turn a blind eye to reality. And neither can you—I won’t let you.”

“What’s with your main character speech,” Ritsu wrinkles his nose and tries to roll over, but Izumi’s thighs are adamantly placed on either side of him. He’s not going anywhere. “It’s _so_ embarrassing…”

“Shut it,” Izumi says, ruffling Ritsu’s hair as punishment. “I’m being serious.”

Ritsu swats at his hand. “I know you are. That’s what makes it embarrassing.”

“What’s _embarrassing_ is you putting yourself in danger just because you don’t want to drink my blood,” Izumi retorts. “Seriously, what’s even gotten into you?”

“You know exactly what.” And Izumi does, he knows exactly what this imprint is doing to Ritsu because it’s doing the same thing to him. “But it’s all fake, isn’t it? All this—” he gestures between them, “—it’s all because of the imprint.”

Maybe it is, but—Izumi can still feel something else clawing at him, its strength growing with every second that passes. He wants to scream, wants to protest because somehow, everything Ritsu is saying is completely right and completely _wrong_ at the same time.

“None of it’s even real, so…”

And all the while, the imprint is pulling at him to come closer, be _closer._ So he does, dipping lower until their breaths mingle in what little space is left between them. Ritsu doesn’t push him back because—because this is what he wants, and Izumi _knows_ that.

“I don’t want to do this if it’s all just gonna be some big lie.”

“You’re so—whatever, fine.” All the feeling that’s been pooling up inside him—his own _and_ Ritsu’s—comes spilling out, and he mashes his lips against Ritsu’s, grabbing onto him when he tries pulling away.

He doesn’t resist for long, though, and he feels a familiar sharp sting on his lower lip and then the rush of his own blood. The pain goes away instantly, and Izumi moans into the kiss, pushing himself against Ritsu, as if there were ever any space between them to begin with.

It feels just as good as before, and the pleasure spreads through every inch of his body until even his fingers are trembling with euphoria. He caresses Ritsu’s face and holds him there, goading him to take and keep taking.

Ritsu gives in, his hand flying up to knot in Izumi’s hair and hold him ever closer, the other exploring Izumi’s body, creeping up and up his thigh until his nails dig into his ass.

Izumi gasps, but Ritsu doesn’t let him escape, smothering it roughly.

There’s an itch under his skin, a whisper in his ear, and Izumi lets it take control, guiding his hand down Ritsu’s torso and then lower still until Ritsu is moaning and Izumi realizes distantly that Ritsu wanted this.

He can’t tell if he’s light-headed because of the kiss or because Ritsu’s taking perhaps a little too much blood, but right now he wouldn’t care even if he died.

Still, Ritsu pulls away first once again, leaving Izumi to chase after him, desperate for more. Ritsu denies him this time, licking his bottom lip to seal the wound and then drawing away completely.

“Secchan—” Ritsu’s breath tickles Izumi’s nose. “What was that?”

Izumi blinks down at him, a bubble of giddy laughter spilling out in his moment of vulnerability. “Now it’s not a lie,” he says, each word punctuated by heavy breath. The arm propping him up gives out, and he crashes face-first on Ritsu’s chest.

Ritsu’s arm settles around him as if on instinct, a single finger tracing small patterns into his arm.

“You’re the stupid one, Secchan,” he whispers. There’s a pause, and then: “Thank you.”

Izumi takes a few deep breaths before answering. “I’m not gonna let you suffer alone. We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not.”

“I’d rather like it,” Ritsu admits in a voice so small Izumi nearly misses it.

But he doesn’t, and he relaxes into Ritsu’s embrace. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this far!! i can't tell you how much your support means to me!
> 
> find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/aegious)


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